Hesitate
by JibberingThoughtsOfFle
Summary: What Happens when Sherlock hesitates on the rooftop? Based on a picture post on Tumblr. Lots of Angst. Lots of Feelings, I'm so sorry. Rated T to be safe.


**A/N: This is a ficlet based on a Tumblr post by thebritishteapot 'Hesitate': thebritishteapot. tumblr (dotcom) /post/19637617606/hesitate (remove the spaces and brackets and 'dot' etc).  
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**I watched TRF to get some of the lines correct for the first part, All those lines belong to BBC Sherlock; I've just used them.  
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**Warning: Angst. Lots of Angst! I'm so so sorry.  
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* * *

**Hesitate**

"Turn around and walk back the way you came." Sherlock tries to keep his voice steady, his plan will work, but he needs John to trust him. _Please John, please._

"No, I'm coming in." Stubborn as ever.

"Just, do as I ask. Please?" He begs. He pleads. _Trust me John, I need you to do this for me_.

"Where?" Relief floods Sherlock as John retreats behind the building.

"Stop there."

"Sherlock?" Oh God. His voice is so unsure, so scared. How can he do this to his John? He has to though, he knows that. He has to.

"Ok, look up I'm on the rooftop."

"Oh God." Even from this distance he can see the alarm spread across John's features. The urge to tell him that everything is going to be ok is strong, but he can't reveal his plan. Though he hates to do it, he has to keep John in the dark.

He swallows back his panic and forces himself to speak. "I-I-I can't come down, so we'll just have to do it like this." _I'm so sorry John._

"What's going on?"

_Please forgive me._ He takes a deep breath and composes himself. "An apology. It's all true."

"What?" The first signs of anger lace John's cracked voice.

"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."

"Why are you saying this?" He doesn't believe Sherlock. He knew this would be hard, but he has to try and make it believable now. He is torn between panic for John's safety and an undying pride for his stubbornness.

"I'm a fake." His voice finally cracks on the lie, and he hopes it will sound like a confession.

"Sherlock-"

"The newspapers were right all along." He interrupts John, he needs to tell him this. He needs to get through it. "I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you, that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."

"Ok, shut up Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met – the first time we met – you knew all about my sister right?"

The first thing that comes to his mind: "Nobody could be that clever."

"You could."

He laughs, he knows he shouldn't, and he's painstakingly aware of every minute that passes. After everything he's said John is still loyal. How can he, the freak Sherlock Holmes, have been so blessed to have such a friend as John Watson? The tears are real now, he's no longer acting as panic for his friend's life seizes full control of his emotions. "I researched you." Good, it's better than nothing. _Please work, please._ "Before we met, I discovered everything I could to impress you. It's all a trick, it's just a magic trick."

"No, alright stop it now!" He's no longer angry now. He's confused. _I'm so so sorry John_.

Terror grips him as he sees John walking towards the Hospital. Without thinking his voice almost shouts. "NO! Stay exactly where you are, don't move." _Please do this for me John. Please_.

"You alright?"

He's stopped. Thank goodness. "Keep your eyes fixed on me," He reaches out, and sees John do the same, "please can you do this for me?" _It'll all be ok, you just need to trust me John, please do this, I need you_.

"Do what?" Sherlock trembles as he knows what comes next.

"This phone call, it's…" Be brave, "it's my note. That's what people do don't they? Leave a note."

"Leave a note when?"

_I'm sorry_. "Goodbye, John."

"No. Don't –"

Sherlock drops the phone. He raises his arms. He looks at John. His mistake. He can barely see John's features, but he can still see the man shaking. He can't do this to him. He has to. _Deep Breath_.

_**BANG**_

John falls to the floor.

_What?_

_No._

_NO._

_Please._

Sherlock falls.

There's the truck, the squash ball. There's fake blood, the homeless network. The stretcher, and Molly. There's Molly.

_Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. LESTRADE AND MRS. HUDSON. _It's all Sherlock can think, all that he'll allow himself to think. He's alone with Molly. Finally. "John! Where is he?" He grasps her shoulders far too roughly. She's crying.

"Sherlock he's…" her voice catches and she doesn't have the heart to stop him as he rushes out of the room. The stretcher is just coming in now. John's wheezing. He's alive!

"John? JOHN?" Ignoring the paramedics, the real paramedics, Sherlock reaches John and grasps his hand, limp at his side. There's blood, a lot of blood. John's eyes widen as he see's Sherlock's face, also covered with blood. He tries to speak, but ends up coughing blood. "I'm ok John, and you'll be ok too. Please John, hang on. Please…" Tears fill his eyes as he watches them take his John away. He's not allowed to go with them. As he's taken through the doors Sherlock swears he sees John shake his head sadly.

He never sees him again.

*Two Weeks Later*

Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson are alive. Moriarty is dead. Sherlock is alive. Dr John Watson, his best friend, is dead.

Mrs. Hudson stands with him at the graveside. She says some words. She says a lot of words. Sherlock doesn't hear them. He wishes she would just go away. Mrs. Hudson finally leaves him alone, and taps his shoulder comfortingly as she walks away, wiping a tear from her eye. Sherlock stared at the name on the gravestone: 'Dr. John Watson.'

"That should be my name you know. That was the plan John. I ruined it. I pride myself on not making many mistakes, but this one cost you your life. And me my only friend." _Breath, Sherlock. He deserves this now._ "I was wrong about you. You were never normal, you were never ordinary and boring. In the end it was me who was predictable. Moriarty knew I would… I would… _hesitate_," the word came out in barely a whisper, "and now he's won. Yes, he's dead but I've lost all that was important to me. You believed in me didn't you? Right until the end. I can't thank you enough for that John, and I'm sorry that I failed you. I was a coward, I wasn't brave enough to do what I had to. I had to _hurt_ you John. It was hard, but now the alternative is that I've _killed _you.

"I don't believe in fairytales or wishes John. I still claim that heroes don't exist. However… if… if there was a chance… If I could…" The tears started, and Sherlock walked forward, his hand shaking as he laid it gently on top of the gravestone. "I wish it was the other way around John. I wouldn't normally wish pain and grief onto another but you're strong. You'd push through and live a good life. A proper life. I've prevented you from doing that. And now I'm here, by myself. I will always be by myself.

"I never thanked you enough for what you did for me. You became the voice of morality in my head. You were the essence of compassion that I could trust above all others, and most importantly… you gave me your undying friendship." He collapsed onto both knees in front of the grave, whispering "My friend, my friend, my friend…" in between his sobs. He leant forward so that his forehead rested against the smooth stone.

"I was so alone, and I owe you so much."


End file.
